


Lucille Mulhall Rides Again

by valantha



Series: LJ prompt [3]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: #ClaytonLives, Character Death Fix, Cowboys & Cowgirls, Gen, LJ 60 prompts in 60 days, Post-Season/Series 01, Wild West, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 07:36:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/910605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valantha/pseuds/valantha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Several months after Nora’s near-fatal wound in The Tower, she has a bit of a confrontation with a “hotshot” cowboy. This is for the LJ 60 prompts in 60 days: Wild West.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucille Mulhall Rides Again

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note: So this scene is set during my #ClaytonLives story, a story that is suffering a bit from a failure to launch, and the tone of this scene didn’t fit with the tone of the overall story. To give a short synopsis of relevant points: Grace saved Nora, the power was turned off, The Tower people (including Grace and Nora) flee north to the Collins tribe. Oh yeah, and there was a miscommunication issue, so the tribe thinks Grace and Nora are lovers, not strangers.
> 
> A brief mention of threatened rape and retaliatory castration/branding, so a possible trigger. Language.
> 
> Thank you to xyber116 for beta'ing this one-shot.
> 
> I don't own the characters or Revolution; I'm just playing with them for a bit for fun, not profit.

Nora felt the strong desert sun beat down upon her skin and felt small beads of sweat run down her neck, underneath her unraveling braid, and beneath a battered, faded blue bandana. She turned her head and looked over the mixed herd of 2,000 cattle currently grazing on the still-green banks of some unnamed creek north of Amarillo, TX. Nora wasn’t as comfortable on a horse as some of these born-again Mongols she was working with, but she did enjoy getting to use a lasso again. Her talent for the beauty pageant circuit had been trick-roping, and it had taken her a week or so to get used to the rope again (and her longer arms), but she was now as proficient as she had been. Nora wasn’t quite ready to rope a balky calf from Teddy’s back, but so far Teddy had shown great cow-sense and was doing a good job at making it seem like Nora actually knew how to keep a herd of cattle bunched together and moving in the right direction.

It had been nice recovering from her nigh-fatal wound with Grace and the Collins tribe. Grace was peaceful in a reservedly cheerful sort of way, and the matriarchal Collins tribe wasn’t nearly as barbaric as the Republic gossipmongers painted the whole Plains Nations. And God, the sunsets! How the westering sun could paint such a glorious spectrum of color behind the Rocky Mountains, she’d never know. But she had signed on with this cattle drive to get to Texas, to look for Mia. She had no clue what had happened to Miles and the rest, she only knew they thought she was dead; Miles would have only left his St. Michael’s medallion to a corpse, and even if she had the smallest inkling where the Mathesons might be, they might be better off without her.

Now Mia, on the other hand wouldn’t be too hard to track down. Between jobs she tended to make a splash, something that had annoyed the hell out of Nora when they worked together. Not that, you know, dating the General of the Republic was **un-** splashy. Anyways, if any of Nora’s old bounty hunter contacts were still around, they’d certainly know where Mia was. It paid to know the location of possible competitors and collaborators.

Teddy, her mount, and a short blue roan Quarter horse, shifted her weight, as if saying _enough with this wool-gathering, let’s go do something fun, or at the very least let me join the others._ Nora glanced over at Rosie and the remuda; maybe it was time to switch mounts. Nora was still quite pleased to have been able to find two solid spare horses named after US presidents – Teddy was named after Theodore Roosevelt and Rosie after Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

In the beginning, many of the cowboys gave the Bossman crap for hiring on a woman, and a dyke at that, but after Nora took care of a coyote with a well-thrown knife through the eye, many of them shut the hell up. Many, but not all. One young hotshot, who thought he was Buffalo Bill come again, was particularly tenacious, and called her Annie Oakley - when everyone knew that Annie was a trick-shooter, it was _Lucille Mulhall_ who was a famous rider and roper!

Nora heard the clomp-jingle of cowboy boots approaching behind her. Teddy flicked her ear back to check out the intruder. Nora patted Teddy on the withers and turned to inspect the intruder as well. It was the hotshot.

He said, “Well Miss Annie Oakley, just because you share a man’s interest in women, you think you can do a man’s job on the range. Well, I think you need a little lesson in being a true woman.”

Mr. Asshat ominously unbuckled his extra-large Cheyenne Frontier Days 2005 belt buckle and Nora decided she really didn’t need a lesson from Mr. Asshat in being a woman, and loosened her coiled lariat from the horn of her saddle. With a minimum of flash and movement she nudged the honda down, opening up the lariat’s noose and choked down on the spoke. She swung the rope over her head once, feeding out some rope, twisting her wrist, and once the honda was over the sweet spot she released the top rope, lay it on the asshat and rapidly pulled in the slack, deftly trapping his arms down.

Nora gave the rope a little tug as she gave Teddy the leg signal to stand fast. She dismounted Teddy smoothly, but not as rapidly as she might have wanted. She flicked her belt knife free as she strode over to prone Mr. Asshat.

Nora said in a conversational tone, “Well, what do you think Teddy, does this colt need to be castrated?”

Mr. Asshat struggled in the restraint of the lariat; Nora, with the help of Teddy, kept it taut.

Teddy nickered, recognizing her name, and Nora responded, “No, you’re right. This blockhead is a bull calf, not a colt, and needs to be branded.”

Mr. Asshat continued to struggle and shouted, “You wouldn’t!”

Nora flipped him over like a calf in a roping contest, and pulled down his jeans and leather chaps. She said calmly, “I would, and have, branded men for far less.” Unsaid was the relevant amendment that these men had volunteered for the encircled M brand. 

Mr. Asshat heard the truth in her words, and stopped struggling instead pleading, “Please, Nora, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please don’t.”

Nora slapped his bare white ass several times and then released the tension on the rope, slipping the noose over his body. She coiled the rope in her hands, turned her back on the non-threat of Mr. Asshat and remounted Teddy with an _uhnuff_. As Nora nudged Teddy away from M. Asshat, she heard him chuckle in what she assumed was relief. Nora tucked her rope back over the horn of her saddle and rode off to the creek bank, hoping that he would eventually wise up and she hadn’t exacerbated the situation. Oh well. What’s done is done.


End file.
